


stay away from my trigger

by wika



Category: B.A.P, Block B
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Angst, Breathplay, Contract killing, Crimes & Criminals, Death, Drug trafficking, Explicit Sexual Content, Mild Gore, Multi, Smut, Strong Language, Weapons Trafficking, biting kink, long ass ride, not really incest but kinda odd relationship between brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wika/pseuds/wika
Summary: At that very moment when Yongguk picked up an ace, he had already known that this time instead of making money he had to pay for his inevitable loss. And all he could do that time was to grip on an ace with a wide smile and fearless expression on his face as he pulled the trigger of his Beretta M9 directed towards his own temple.





	1. the crown of the town

Droplets of sweat were running down his back and his muscles were burning, ready to rip his skin off, but the young man was definitely not going to finish his back murder workout. Not until his lungs were still trying to catch his breath and his fingers were still gripping on the pull-up bar. His body was a failsafe machine, a perfect, powerful and also beautiful composition of cells and tissues, his archangel features and evil soul hidden behind the curtains of his thick eyelashes, smirking in his shining pupils. Every single millimeter of his skin was mesmerizing at the first sight and poisonous at the first taste, haunting your senses until you will lose yourself. He also had a blank and somewhat sinister facial expression, an ominous smile formed with staccato sounds of gunfire and the wrenching booms of explosions. He wasn't raised to entice, of course not, and he didn't like to entice anyone either. It was mostly about pulling triggers, sometimes he didn't even need to use any weapons. Just his bare fists, his knees maybe, if he wanted to.

He jump off the pull-up bar, his feet leaving sweaty footprints on wooden desks, when he was walking over bedside cabinet. His phone was ringing and he didn’t want to talk right now, but it had to be something important, he thought. It was always important when that phone rang, almost echoed in his head.

He put the call on loudspeaker, before sitting on the cold panels. His breath was still heavy and he was feeling a sharp pain in his chest but that pain was more than pleasurable. “Speaking.”

“I thought you were going to fuck me up,” the well-known voice spoke. Of course it was _her_. His beloved pain in the ass as well as his initial admiration, impressing him with her knowledge and her cold, calculated demeanor during times of anger. She was something sank deep into his veins, a venomous but also remedial substance. “Are you available, dear?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“You are placed to know.”

“Right,” she laughed. “I have a paymaster for you. With a very, very satisfying order. How does it sound? Would you be interested in working for him, dear?”

He sighed, getting up from the ground, “just call me at six, then I will see what can I do for you. At least arouse me.”

The call went dead without any goodbyes nor see yous and the phone fell on the sheet as he went to the bathroom, choosing to take a shower at first, then wear some sporty clothes and remove his Colt 1911 from bedside cabinet. He didn’t have any other guns here, he wasn’t stupid to do such a thing.  

When the droplets of water were kissing his tanned skin, the certain scene was appearing in front of his eyes. One sight, one shot, one scream and one dead body were flashing back to him every day, turning droplets of water into spikes and needles. It wasn’t terrifying nor painful, just his moment of an endless loneliness. And what he knew about loneliness was that by and by it was turning into a pleasure. The pleasure of being all alone with his demons.

~*~

“Hyung, I’m bored to death.”

Jiho glanced at his complaining brother, who was throwing cartridges up and down as they were beading instead of ammunition of semi-automatic pistol. His hands, cheeks and nose were already dirty as well as his clothes covered with gunpowder. “What can I do for you, Junhong?”

“I don’t know. I want to play a game.”

“And how old are you, Junhong? Twelve?”

Junhong pouted and crossed his arms, not wanting to answer. Of course he wasn’t twelve. He was turning eighteen in a few days, but what he had to do all the time was really boring, he must tell. Different types of firearm were laying on the table in front of him, bullets, shots, primers and cartridges spilled out everywhere and the smell of propellant substances hanging in the air. He didn’t want to study any longer today. He wanted to have fun and fun wasn’t connected with guns at all.

But that was his reality. Being surrounded by weapons and people in suits and ties with cold, almost blank facial expressions on their faces. The sound of pistol was more familiar to him than the sound of laughter. He couldn’t understand what was his family doing, nor who they were. Jiho always called them businessmen but Junhong wasn’t stupid and he knew businessmen weren’t having blood on their fingers and sins in their hearts. Still he couldn’t bring himself to call Jiho a bad person. He was his overprotective brother, not a sinner.

“I know everything I need to know, hyung. Let me hang out with friends,” he said, wiping away gunpowder from his face.

“You don’t have any friends,” Jiho spat, before sighing in a disgrace.

“But I can make friends if you let me go out at least once in my life, hyung,” Junhong murmured, looking down at his dirty hands.

Junhong had no idea why he couldn’t go anywhere on his own. He was old enough to go for a walk without anyone watching all of his steps, yet his brother didn’t let him to do it. When he was younger, Jiho said it was all about his safety, that there was really dangerous on the outside. But was it really that dangerous that he needed be locked in his apartment for the rest of his life? He didn’t think so.

The younger boy sighed, pointing his finger at one of the weapons, “it’s Kalashnikov AK-74, it has 30 round magazine capacity what is fabricated from two-parts of AG-S4 molding compound. The next weapon is the IMI Desert Eagle, your favorite gun, hyung, because it has interesting design details and uses gas-operated mechanism, so it quite easy to use. And this,” he picked up a black semi-automatic pistol, “is the Walter PPQ, a weapon developed by German company. It’s rather a short recoil-operated locked breech pistol that uses a modified Browning cam-lock system adapter from the Hi-Power pistol. You don’t like it, though.”

Jiho didn’t know what to say. So instead of saying anything he patted Junhong’s head, smiled at him and went out of the room, choosing not to give up on his promises. There were things Junhong couldn’t understand right now. He couldn’t understand that Jiho wanted to protect him from real danger. He couldn’t understand that the shadow was already absorbing Seoul. Also he couldn’t understand that in this game he was _the light_.

~*~

Even though his paymasters were different, the place he met them was always the same. An old, dusty bar at the corner of Jeonnong-ro and Hwangmul-ro. It was pretty close by his place and far enough from undesirable part of town. There were borders everywhere and he wasn’t reckless to be jeopardized. In the end, he was just a shadow.

Swing notes of jazz and smell of rotten wood greeted him, when he came inside, just to have his favorite seat at the end of counter. There were not a lot of people here, just two old men playing billiards and a bartender who was already making a cocktail for him. _Sazerac_ of course, as he didn’t drink anything else. And as always, there was something under his drinking glass. A playing card.

“How was your day?”, the bartender asked when he took a payment from him.

They knew each other pretty well, you could say. They didn’t know about their names, lives and such details, but they were sharing the same kind of loneliness and very similar kind of darkness.

He smirked, looking at the drinking glass, “awful, yours?”

“Same,” the bartender snorted, a charming smile appearing on his young face. His eyes looked alluring with glitter and eye shadow applied over the lid, his plump lips and dark skin complementing each other. “Are you picking up the card today?”

“Yeah. Ace or joker?”

“You will see.”

He wanted to answer him, flirt with him even, but as soon as seconds fell from the clockwise, his phone rang and his smile disappeared with bartender walking away from him. He sighed and picked up the call.

“It’s six,” an unfamiliar, harsh voice spoke.

“Be specific, please.”

There were always two things he needed to know. A name and a value. Fortunately, his paymasters were speaking bluntly and it was his choice to take or refuse an order. Also, he didn’t have time to hesitate, he mustn’t hesitate even for a second. But he had time to pick up a playing card laying under his drinking glass and it was what he did that time too.

“Yoo Youngjae. Two million dollars for him. How does it sound?”

He smirked, picking up the card, “magnificent, but-,”

“What?” the paymaster asked, a slight of anger resounded in his voice. He hated that kind of people. Their voices were always disgusting, almost nauseating.

“What about the catch?”

Of course there was a catch, he was sure about that. Someone — he didn’t know anything about his paymasters — wanted to pay two million for one life and he wasn’t stupid to not know that this so-called Youngjae was something more than just an amount of cash. He must be a stop what needed to be cut off and not pulled out.

The voice was silent for a moment, then they cleared his throat before they said, “he’s one of _Gukga Jeongbowon._ Do you think you can still make it?”

He looked at joker in his hand, the joker which was already his answer. “There’s a bullet someone begs to have in their head.”

~*~

The wisps of smoke were coiling in the stale air and burnt ashes fell on the sheet, as he flicked the cigarette butt once again. Then Himchan brought the cigarette to his lips and Jongup’s eyes were morphing into a cold stare, “Sorry for bothering you, sir, but we have some exceptional circumstances. Would you like me to let you know about them?”

Himchan snorted at the ‘circumstances’ and sighed, letting Jongup to continue. He wasn’t in the mood for such a thing, but in his — let’s say — _job_ , they didn’t have rights to not be in the mood. “Short and to the point, Jongup.”

Jongup was one of his henchmen, the best and the most reliable one. His facial features were quite imposing, with a long face, large cheekbones, prominent brow, recessed forehead and dark, luring eyes. He could be easily mistaken for a model, although he was rather short and too muscular to be one. The thing Himchan liked about Jongup the most was his professionalism, his absolute highest priority in completing Himchan’s commands, avoiding any collaterals. Also, he was well-mannered, always choosing to not raise his voice and speaking in a non-threatening tone.

“Right,” said Jongup, after he had cleared his throat and stayed upright. “One of our people heard rumors about _Blackman_. I mean… those are only rumors, but there are people who believe he’s back. He may have been in United States all of the time, therefore, we couldn’t — and we still can’t — find him.”

“Bullshit,” Himchan hissed, pressing his cigarette against bedside cabinet. There were already plenty of holes in the wood. “He can’t be back because he doesn’t fucking exist.”

“We don’t know, sir. There are, however, clear indications that he’s real. What about those marks and signs? And there are people who saw him.”

“Don’t mention him again, Jongup,” Himchan raised his voice and clenched his fists, an anger filling every cell of his body. “So tell me, before I do some damage you won’t walk away from. What were you talking about that faggot?”

“Nothing, sir. It was my mistake. I will excuse myself right now, have a rest.”

After he went out, Himchan picked up his lighter and threw it towards the wall, gritting his teeth.

He couldn’t say it loud, but he was really scared. He was scared like never before, because he knew it was truth. _Blackman_ , who could ruin all of the imperium Himchan has been building for years, was coming back — or rather — he was already back, watching Himchan behind every corner in this city. Himchan was so sure of it because he saw him last night. He saw an endless shadow, slowly embracing Himchan’s world. And Himchan couldn’t stand the thought that someone wanted to steal his crown.

 


	2. fears and hopes upon the sky

Yoo Youngjae was the son of Yoo Seungjae, a police homicide lieutenant and World War II veteran. His mother, Kang Chaeyoung was a member of the powerful Kang family. Just like his father wanted, he became a Second Lieutenant in the Republic of Korea Marine Corps at the age of 21, passing the School of Infantry. He was getting the best recommendations from his Chief Petty Officers and Warrant Officers. He passed the Certified Public Accountant exam while waiting for the Marines to assign him to a duty station, however, his military career ended at the age of 22, when he was asked to work as an agent to help track down the terrorists for the National Intelligence Service. Youngjae couldn't feel more honored at that very moment.

He truly loved his job. ‘ _Anonymous dedication to freedom and truth_ ’ were the words he said to himself every day, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He was in love with the feeling of enormous power he gained, great responsibility he had and his beautiful seal he kept always close to himself. At the age of 23 he had everything he would ever want to ask for — satisfying and well-paid job, reliable friends, apartment in the most beautiful area of Seoul.

But when he came to his bed, he felt like he was just a half a heart. There was no one who could hug him, touch him, be for him when he was feeling down. There was no one to embrace him and whisper soft goodnights to him. There was no one who could ever love him, because his heart was strictly locked by his job. So even though he was the happiest men while serving _Gukga Jeongbowon_ , when he came back to his apartment he was turning into the most unhappiest human and he hated it.

He walked into the headquarter of Agency and knitted his brows when an alarming silence greeted him quickly. Everyone in the building was too quiet, unusually focused on their duties but he could easily feel that their eyes were watching him discreetly. He snorted before he threw his jacket on the one of untaken chairs.

“Yeah, in case you’re wondering, I’m still alive,” he murmured.

There was another moment of silence. A very unpleasant one.

“Youngjae! My man!”

He turned around just to see Jaehyo walking towards him with a wide smile on his face, “how’ve you been, Ahn? You lost some weight, didn’t you?”

Jaehyo was in charge of research and development division of the _Gukga Jeongbowon,_ but Youngjae preferred to call him a friend. He was someone who he wanted to trust, the most stable Jack of this House of Cards. They were like Yin and Yang — Jaehyo always relied on statistics and analysis and Youngjae relied on impulse and initiative, but together they were able to wreck every wall on their way.

“We have a lot of work these days since B-,” Jaehyo gulped and smiled weirdly, but Youngjae wasn’t going to ask about it. He wasn’t curious because he already knew what was going on in Seoul. _Shadow finally came to eat the Light up_. “It doesn’t matter right now. I’m glad you did well on your job. You should talk to _Black Widow_ right now since she’s freaking out about your trip. Gonna catch you later, kay?”

“Yeah, right.”

Youngjae sighed and turned to his director’s office but as soon as he took one step, Jaehyo stopped him immediately, adding:

“Welcome back, man. We’re going to have a lot of fun in this darkening capitol of South Korea.”

He smirked, nodding his head, “of course we are.”

And he really meant it.

Director’s office was located on the fifth floor which servants loved to call ‘Black Widow’s trap’ because of its specific atmosphere. There weren’t any cobwebs nor spiders on the walls and their director didn’t have spinneret nor fangs that injected venom, but her presence was already an answer to everyone’s question. She was always calm and open-minded at the same time, making you question everything you were going to do. Instead of venomous bite, she had venomous, almost paralyzing gaze.

But Youngjae wasn’t afraid of her at all. She was his boss, of course, but it wasn’t enough to make Youngjae feel small. Conversely, he was more confident after every time he made a trip to the director’s office.

He came in without knocking, took a seat and looked at an old woman who was already staring at him. Her eyes narrowed a little and almost disappeared from her face, “nice to see you again, Commander Yoo.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“How was your mission?”

“You already know everything about it, ma’am. I violated the only absolutely inviolate rule of our service just to kill bomb maker who came up to be a poor civilian after all. And we both know I should display some kind of judgement, but I’m your best person so you will let me to get away with this.”

“You’re right as always, Commander Yoo.”

“Let’s skip this part then,” he murmured, looking at the painting behind his boss. _El Greco’s View of Toledo_ , such a great choice. “I wasn’t going to ask about it today, but I changed my mind since we have nothing more to talk about,” he snorted. “I heard that our favorite friend came back to Seoul, is it true?”

She just nodded.

“And I came back too, what a great coincidence. Maybe I should look for him, what do you think?”

“We’ve been looking for him for last few months, yet we still can’t find him and it makes me worried that no one can do it.”

“Should I take care of it?”

“And what more can you do, Commander Yoo?”

Youngjae cleared his throat, his bloodless lips curling into a wide smile, “let’s see what can I do, shall we?”

~*~

 

An old, dusty bar at the corner of Jeonnong-ro and Hwangmul-ro greeted _him_ with a swing notes of jazz once again that week. However, this time instead of taking an order, he just wanted to drink Sazerac and maybe — just maybe  — have a little chat with a certain bartender. It was something about that man’s lips and gaze that he couldn’t resist any longer, his own lust seeking for comfort. Or maybe it was just a boredom, he didn’t really know and didn’t _want_ _to_ get to know either.

Just as he took his seat, a strong almost feminine scent choke-hold him for a moment, curling his lips into charming but also ominous smile. He laid his hand on the countertop, enormous amount of cash protruding from his slim fingers. There were few cuts on his skin and his knuckles were covered with bruises, but it wasn’t something to worry about. His body always crave for a little bit of pain.

“Are you going to leave all of your money here?” the bartender asked, handing him a glass of Sazerac he was already addicted to.

“I don’t know, am I?”

The bartender chuckled, turning away to reach for a cotton towel, “I don’t know either, but you could also give me a satisfying tip, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, lifting his drinking glass up to his lips, “maybe I could.”

And then there was a silence, the most pleasurable one, with alluring smiles on the outside and irresistible cravings on the inside. There were unnoticeable touches, bringing out their primal states and arousing them from the very beginning. There were well-considered words and unspoken needs, hanging above their laughs. There were two men almost giving up on what they wanted to do with each other’s bodies.

“What is your name, anyway?” _he_ asked the bartender, when he was waiting for another glass of Sazerac.

The bartender bit his bottom lip and shrugged, pouring a Cognac into the drinking glass, “and how would you like to call me?”

‘ _A smartass_ ,’ he thought, sighing. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“Which name would like to escape from my lips when you will suck me off, blinking watery eyes of yours.”

The bartender smirked, reaching for a bottle of Absinthe, “then you don’t have to know my name. I don’t know your name either so I guess it’s fair enough to keep it in secret, right?”

“You’re really smart,” he said, hooding as he stood up. He didn’t need another cocktail, his head was heavy enough for tonight and he started to have a feeling that his phone will ring soon, expecting only sober answers from him.

“Why so?”

“You don’t want to know my name, because you know it could make you lose yourself.”

The bartender snorted, raising the drinking glass. He mustn’t drink alcohol at work, but he couldn’t care less at that time. “You’re right. And as we made things clear, you should at least ask for my number so you can figure it out which name will escape your lips when I will suck you off.”

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes, as he leaned over the counter. “Right, I’m looking forward to it. You got look in your eyes like you haven’t been fucked for years.”

“Change it, then.”

“As you wish.”

When he finally came out of the bar, he reached for his pocket where was his phone, just to check new name in his contacts. A small simper appeared on his face when he saw one capital letter.

“ _D_ ,” he said, nodding his head.

~*~

Junhong sighed, hugging his legs, as his back was pressed to the wall and his ears were trying to catch every sound from his brother’s office. Jiho was talking with somebody he didn’t know and it had to be something important since they have been locked in this room for a long time.

“What we are supposed to do?” the unfamiliar voice said. “It’s fucking bad, we’re already dead, Jiho! For the fuck’s sake, at least say something!”

“I don’t know. Is this what you wanted to hear?”

“You’re mad.”

“Not now, but I will be, if you won’t stop saying such things.”

“Let’s get him the fuck out of here. Right now.”

“No.”

“No?” their voice raised and Junhong gulped, his skin shivering at such harsh words. “This kid will bring the fucking death to us and you know it, Jiho. He’s supposed to know everything already, yet he’s fucking eighteen and doesn’t give a fuck about anything we’ve been doing for years!”

“I need some time to figure everything out. I can’t make any decision right now.”

“We have no time and this is the fucking point. I can feel a fucking knife pressing into my back because of your shitty kid. It’s pathetic, you’re pathetic!”

“Fuck, _Mino_ , he’s my little brother! You don’t have any rights to say such things about him!”

Junhong gasped for breath and clutched at his heart, as his lips started to trembling in overtaking and enormous fear. He couldn’t understand anything what were they talking about and didn’t want to know what was going on either. Jiho would never let anyone to hurt him. He was sure about it. But what was making him the most afraid of was one sentence. Will he really bring death to them?

“We should go now, tho,” said _Mino_ , after the long moment of complete silence. “The driver is already here and I’m afraid that boss won’t be happy to hear about our delay.”

“Go first,” Zico stated and Junhong quickly got up, ready to run to his room if necessary. His heart was beating really fast and he could feel the sweat on his back. “I have to talk to Junhong before I leave.”

After that moment Junhong was already in his room, pretending that he was here all that time, watching cartoons and eating sour-to-sweet candies. When he heard knocking at his door, he took a deep breath, “come in.”

“What is my cute brother doing?” It was Jiho, sticking his head out of the door. “Yah, I said you shouldn’t eat this shit.”

“Then stop buying me this shit, hyung.”

“Yeah, I will,” he sighed, watching his younger brother carefully as something wasn’t right. He didn’t know what was it, though. His _Light_ was still shining as bright as before, almost ready to give an end to darkness. “Anyway, I will leave you alone for a while, are we okay?”

“For a while?” Junhong asked, furrowing a little as he saw his brother’s down expression.

Jiho nodded, “about three days, maybe four.”

“And there will be no one to look after me?”

“Unfortunately you’re right.”

“Well, I guess we can’t do anything about it,” he murmured, reaching out for his candies. “Have a lot of fun with your businesses. I hope you will back home without blood on your shirt. Such a stupid dream, isn’t it?” he said, letting out a small chuckle.

Jiho didn’t say anything, just glanced at his brother once again and closed the door behind him, when he decided to go out of their apartment. The weather that day was reflecting his hidden fears and hopes — dark sky being constantly on the verge of death, sun hiding behind playthings embraced with dense fog and strong wind putting gravel in his voice every time when it blew towards his face.

And Junhong saw it too, looking through the window, searching for answers he wanted to get. He needed to know who was he. He was sure that he didn’t know himself any longer. Even his own reflection wasn’t familiar to him right now.

That’s why he decided to sneak out of his apartment and find himself in this city of lost souls.

Also, he had no idea that instead of finding himself, he will fall apart straight into the infinite darkness.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still heating up, just wait for it, please. 
> 
> (What do you think about the characters and what are you expecting from this story? Just share with me your thoughts and opinions, I will be very happy to get feedback from you!)


	3. one war against one man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (idk how to feel about it)

“Fuh-fuck.”

The room was filled with moans and sighs, as the bartender’s tongue run the line down _his_ chest, eyes locked on eyes and lust embracing lust. _His_ anger was soothing down as the smile of an angel and the touch of a devil were taking control of _the man_ lying on a white sheet, _his_ hands gripping on soft material and droplets of sweat appearing on _his_ tanned skin.

That was what _he’s_ been craving for last few weeks. The feeling of wet, hot tongue licking the head of _his_ cock, _his_ lips curled into a satisfied smile and eyes closed in overtaking pleasure, “guh-go on, _precious_ , sink your tuh-teeth into-, Yeah, like that-,

 _He_ liked it rough. It has always to be rough. Soft kisses and gentle touches weren’t something _he_ could enjoy. Instead of making love with someone special to _him_ , _he_ needed rough, sometimes even inhumane sex fulfilled with tears, screams and bites. _He_ needed to feel bartender’s teeth sinking deep into _his_ hot flesh, growling around _his_ cock and causing vibrations to rack _his_ body. _He_ needed to tangle hands in bartender’s black hair, pull him closer and hit the back of his throat rather harshly. _He_ needed scratches appearing on his skin as the bartender’s fingernails were digging into him until he bled. _He_ needed to feel good and a little bit of pain was more than good. That pain always consumed _him_.

The bartender hummed deeply, sucking hard once again before he pulled off and smirked briefly as _the man_ glanced down at him, “so am I precious, aren’t I?”

“You are right now.”

“It’s not nice.”

“You don’t like it, huh?”

“I don’t like being precious just for now. Invent me a better nickname.”

“I would call you by your name but we’re still strangers, aren’t we?” _he_ spoke after _he_ squeezed bartender’s round ass. “Suck, precious. I don’t have mu-,

 _‘So here it is,’_ _he_ thought, when _his_ goddamn phone started to vibrate, interrupting them in such a great moment. Of course _he_ couldn’t turn it off even if _he_ didn’t really want to talk. _He_ knew it was more important than the pleasure of getting sucked off by handsome bartender. However, because _he_ was himself, _he_ chose not to give up on neither of them.

 _He_ tapped the phone rather harshly and mouthed ‘ _suck, precious’_ to the bartender before _he_ finally picked up the call. “Speaking.”

“How the man of my life is doing?”

 _He_ didn’t answer, just growled as the bartender scrapped teeth along the sensitive flesh again then dipped tongue into _his_ slit, “juh-just like that, precious.”

“Jesus, you’re so disgusting sometimes,” the feminine voice spoke, making _him_ let out a laugh. After all those times when _he_ fucked random people in front of her eyes, she should be used to it. “I will pretend you’re not getting a brain while talking to me, you cave fucking man.”

“As you want.”

“Anyway, I’ve done some research on your guy and I think some things might interest you.”

“Go on, Tash. I’m already curious.”

“First of all, you should know he’s not a weak target. Yoo Youngjae is the youngest agent of _Gukga Jeongbowon_ but also the best agent in the whole branch,” she stopped for a moment, when _the man_ groaned again, tangling hands in bartender’s hair. “What’s more, hmm. I was told he was doing businesses with Kim Himchan, though I have no idea what-,

“Slown down, precious,” _the man_ said, not caring about the woman _he_ was talking with. _His_ precious bartender was moving his head too fast and too sketchy but it wasn’t bad. “You’re really hungry, huh?”

The bartender let out a moan, bobbing a little slower and licking at every inch he could get at. The look in his eyes was already an answer to _the latter_.

“Oh, sorry, Tash,” _he_ reminded himself of the woman. “My man’s doing businesses with that fucking rat? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m going to figure it out, don’t worry. I’m working on it right now and you don’t give a single fuck about it, I love it.”

“Is that all you wanted to say? Cause fuh-fuck, I think I will cum in less than twenty seconds.”

“Then cum, I don’t care,” she murmured, knowing that _he_ didn’t care about it either. _He_ could fuck the bartender in front of her eyes and it wouldn’t confuse _him_ at all. That happened not even once nor twice before. “You’re seeing Iron on Seokchon Station by Exit 2 at four. He will give you some toys you’ve asked for. I expect you to behave.”

“Am I seeing huh-him today at fuh-four?” _he_ mumbled before he took a deep breath, ready to release inside of the bartender’s mouth. The bartender swallowed everything audibly and he couldn’t be more relieved as he finally took as much air as he could into his lungs. His throat was already burning but it was pleasurable, he must tell.

“Wanna complain about something?” the woman spoke again.

“Can I?”

“As if.”

“Then I am seeing him at four,” _he_ sighed and looked at the bartender who just wiped the cum on his mouth with the back on his palm. His bangs were sticking to his sweaty forehead but in some way he appeared as sexy. It was all about his mesmerizing eyes and swollen lips, _the latter_ couldn’t resist. “Tash, I’m hanging up right now. Gonna call you later.”

When the call ended without any goodbyes, _he_ threw his phone on the sheet and sat up. Then _he_ leaned back on _his_ palms, looking at _his_ tattooed abdomen decorated with some fresh bite marks and hickeys. It was the best painting someone could create on _his_ skin. At that moment _he_ almost forgot about _his_ duties and wanted to give a good reward to _his_ precious, but it took _him_ only few seconds to stop himself from pulling the bartender closer.

“Unfortunately, we have to say goodbye to each other.”

“Are you serious?”

“Sorry, precious, but I can drop you off wherever you need to be dropped off.”

The bartender let out a sigh and got out of the bed, his bare ass wiggled a little when he was collecting his clothes strewn around the floor. Firstly, he pulled his briefs up and fixed the waistband on his hips, then grabbed his tight leather pants. “Why the sudden rush? Did something happen?” he asked, hastily slipping into them, the black leather molding into his legs.

“Curiosity killed the cat, don’t you know, precious?”

The bartender let out a derisive snort. Of course he knew that saying. Nonetheless, he wasn’t going to become the cat. In that game, he was a pawn that was stronger than anyone thought. Move by move, he was advancing all the way to the opposite side of the board to be promoted to something more. The big question remained — who was on which side of the board?

He got dressed in less than two minutes and when the nameless man offered to drop his precious off, he shook his head. “I live nearby,” he explained, zipping up his pants, “and by the way, don’t call me precious. I’m just _Daehyun_. I suggest you to remember my name.”

And that was what _the latter_ did.

~*~

The map in Junhong’s hands was covered with markers spread on such places like subway stations, bars and parks in Seoul, the city he lived in, but didn’t know about anything connected with it. The last time he was outside was year ago, when Jiho brought him to their parents grave. After praying all day in the middle of the winter, Junhong’s cold turned into bronchitis and he couldn’t help but complain about his bad immune system, what wasn’t of course his but Jiho’s fault.

He checked all markers once again, making sure he won’t get lost and come back home at time, then he popped the map in his backpack and wore hooded sash with a black hat above his head. Junhong’s plan was supposed to be an easy one. He wanted to sneak out and drink hot coffee sitting on steps at the Charlotte Theater, then maybe walk around Seokchon Lake, take some photos and find himself between autumn leaves. He would come back to his apartment at seven, at the very latest, before midnight so no one would even know that he went out.

Jiho would kill him. If he only knew what Junhong was going to do, he would definitely kill him. The younger brother was meant to be Rapunzel shut away in a tower and not expect a prince who could come and save him from his miserable life. He was expected to stay obedient and alone. And Junhong didn’t want to be saved by anyone. He wanted to challenge himself, become a knight instead of princess locked in a tower and break all his brother’s rules.

He hastily crossed the room in the direction of the stairwell. Junhong and his brother lived in a huge apartment hidden behind a shady road just a few alley away from Moran Station, his first destination. It was rather quiet neighborhood with quiet nights poured over whiskey and ice, sheets sewed with yellow banknotes and people who were so busy making money that they couldn’t see further than the end of their noses. And because they were really blind, Junhong didn’t hesitate to wander around without having his face covered. He was so sure no one would recognize him.

Beautiful Needle Point Knife was placed inside the teenager’s waistband, remained in a secure position because the sheath could be wedged in between his abdomen and the pants. He wasn’t very confident at carrying sharp blades, but the feeling of independence was reassuring, he must tell. He also wished he had clipped one more knife in his sash pocket, but he already reached Moran Station when he thought about it, so it was too late to go back.

Junhong bought a ticket and glanced at station layout, looking for the right direction he should go in. He went northbound, where the Line 8’s markings were leading him, and when he was finally on the train, he smiled at every stranger he saw. Some people weren’t even looking at him, some weren’t going to share his smile, but he was happy anyway. It was the day he left his cage for the first time and he fell in love with experiencing his freedom from the very start.

When the train made its eleventh stop at the Seokchon Station, he got off the train and looked around, taking a deep breath. Now he had to find Exit 2 and go along Songpa road to reach the first coffee-house on his way. He wanted to order a Pumpkin Spice Latte with a lot of sugar, say a lot of hellos and have-a-nice-days to strangers appearing on his way.

And he would do it all if he hadn’t bump into someone on steps, “I-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, sir. I-I duh-didn’t want to-, I’m sorry.”

In the next moment he heard an unfamiliar, harsh snort, “chill, kid. You don’t have to say sorry, just look the fuck out.”

Junhong glanced at the man in his twenties standing in front of him. His dark hair was pulled back in a short _ponytail_ and his eyes were covered by dark sunglasses so Junhong couldn’t see his features properly. But he saw that little smirk. The world’s deepest abyss that was going to pull Junhong in if he would stare a little bit longer at the man’s evil smile.

He stepped back, ready to walk away, but the stranger spoke to him again, making him stop immediately. “Have we met before?”

Junhong shook his head rather quickly, “no, I’m sure we haven’t.”

“You remind me of someone, ya know?” the man said, removing his sunglasses. And as their eyes locked for that short moment, Junhong felt something he couldn’t describe nor understand. That feeling was _ineffable_. He couldn’t clear his throat, make a single step nor say another apologies towards the stranger. He was only able to stare at the stranger’s eyes and think about his knife which was almost screaming at him to reach for it. “You really… fuck it. Just look out, kid. You should be street smart these days if you don’t want to have a bullet in that pretty little head of yours. Keep it in mind, kay?” he patted Junhong’s head.

“Okay.”

Even when the stranger walked away, Junhong couldn’t take a single step. His eyes were wide open and he was staring at the wall in front of him as the hoarse voice was echoing in his head. He had to open his eyes. He had to learn how to see. Or else he would really have a bullet in his head.

~*~

Jung Hunchul who was known as Iron wasn’t someone you would like to meet in person. What frightened everyone who knew him was his bloodcurdling stare and his sins marked on his hands. He was a sinner and he wasn’t in a need of redemption. People were saying that sometimes, when his eyes were covered by a shade, he had looked like a devil, but Iron knew that he was even worse than that.

He glanced at his black briefcase then at his watch, and snorted audibly when he found out that his old friend was already late. He didn’t have a lot of time, either. He had to deliver some cartridges to Seongnae-dong, then come back to his flat at Meongil-dong and fix the traditional, spongy trigger of his favorite Glock 21 before midnight. Guys like him didn’t have time.

He was about to curse his old friend out and leave the subway station, when he finally saw the familiar posture walking towards him. A wide smile appeared on his face, “long time no see, _Yongguk_! Long time no see...”

Yongguk nodded, but didn’t say a single word. His eyes were already locked on Iron’s black briefcase. He wanted to see what exactly was inside of it and touch every gun that was hidden from his sight.

“Don’t want to say hello to your old friend?” Iron asked, his lips curled into a wry smile.

“Definitely not.”

When they walked up the stairs slowly, Iron offered to go across Baekjegobun-ro and have a little chat, since there were many things he would like to know before he would give his briefcase to Yongguk. He was always curious about man’s life and Yongguk hated that kind of people, but he could do nothing about that right now. Even if they weren’t friends anymore, they had to respect each other while making their deals.

“So,” Iron started, pulling his _ponytail_ holder loose with a thumbnail, “who is he?”

“Who?”

“Ya know, that guy you’re going to kill. Who is he?”

Yongguk let out a sigh and clicked his tongue, “guy named Youngjae. Yoo Youngjae.”

Iron loved to laugh at everything. Actually, he didn’t laugh — he mocked at people and things, thinking that they were ridiculous. That time, when he laughed at Yongguk’s words, he really looked like a devil. Yongguk could even see the red horns sticking out over his hair.

“You kidding?” asked Iron after a short moment.

“No,” Yongguk murmured as he pulled metal cigarette case out of his jacket and grabbed one cigarette between the middle and ring finger. “You got a lighter? Or a match, it doesn’t matter.”

Iron nodded quickly and took a matchbook out of his coat pocket, “take as much as you want, Zu.”

“Thanks.”

“Yoo Youngjae… I know that name!” said Iron, as soon as Yongguk lit the match and moved it to the end of his cigarette. “He’s Himchan’s button, I’m telling you. He’s a fucking button. Kill him without any mercy, yeah, piss on him on my behalf. And send me some photos after all, I will hang them on my wall.”

“He’s one of Gukga Jeongbowon,” Yongguk scoffed, starring at the man through thick wisps of smoke he blew out of his mouth. “Their best agent, actually. Something like James Bond or I don’t know. And don’t care either.”

Iron stopped immediately, his eyes narrowed on the latter. “What? Really? You’re going to rub out a fucking Gukga Boy? No way. But… fuck, it sounds like a lot of fun, Zu! I thought he was working for Himchan so I’m little confused right now.”

“So do I,” Yongguk sighed, a little puff-like ball dissipated into the air and blades of smoke passed through his thick hair. “No matter who the fuck he is, I’m going to earn two million dollars.”

When three perfect smoke rings sighed out of him, Iron was there to stick his tongue and laugh like a mad person he definitely was. Yongguk felt like he was at a freak show, with his favorite Iron as the main attraction of the exhibition.

“You haven’t changed, Zu. I missed you,” said Iron, placing hand on the latter’s shoulder. He squeezed it a little, making Yongguk scowl at him. “I missed this ugly face of yours, ya know? After you finish your duties, we should make a mess together, what do you think?”

Yongguk didn’t want to admit it, but he already knew he would need Iron in the nearest future. He had to get revenge on certain person from his past and Iron was the only one who could help him with it. He didn’t come back to kill targets in exchange for some form of payment. He returned to Seoul because he had promised someone that he will take revenge on them. And Yongguk couldn’t break the promise.

“We will, Iron. We will make more than just a mess.”

A wide smile appeared on Iron’s face, “for reals?”

“Yeah, for reals.”


	4. dance me to your beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was busy these days and I couldn't write this chapter sooner but I hope you're not mad at me.

When Junhong was coming home that night, he was afraid that Jiho would know about his little trip but when he finally got home, there was no one waiting for him. Loneliness greeted him from the doorsteps and whispers of guns and cartridges hidden everywhere did so. His apartment seemed cold, abandoned even, maybe that’s why he always called it cage instead of home. When he was there alone he couldn’t sleep nor eat, even thinking was impossible for him as long as Jiho wasn’t next to him.

Something about that stranger he had met at the Seokchon Station made him feel really scared. He was thinking of a venomous gaze and an evil smirk, those features haunting his senses all of the time. He hoped to never meet him again, but he had the feeling like it was just a beginning of something big. Not a war even, but a total annihilation.

Two days passed and Junhong couldn’t stand being here anymore. He wanted to sneak out again, run away and never stop, but all he could do was cry. He cried silently, letting his tears to stream down his face and not wiping them. He hugged his legs to chest, gritted his teeth and prayed. Praying was his only hope, something no one could take away from him. “Listen to me, Lord, and answer me, for I am hopeless and weak. Save me from death, because I’m loyal to you, save me, for I am your servant and I trust you in.”

The next day felt like an agony. And when the pain in his chest was about to kill him with no mercy, Jiho came back with a wide smile on his face and open arms. Junhong hugged his older brother as tight as he wanted to never let him go again.

Jiho was everything he had. He couldn’t live without him. He loved him with everything he was, everything he had been, and everything he hoped to be. And Jiho knew it too, that’s why he hated himself for leaving Junhong alone from time to time. But that was how his life looked like and he could do nothing about it. “I’m sorry, brother. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, hyung,” whispered Junhong, his fingers gripping hard on material of Jiho’s cord jacket. “I’m glad you’re safe and sound.”

“Hey, your hyung wouldn’t let anyone to hurt him! I will always come back to you.”

That was the moment when Junhong could finally smile. He nodded his head and took one step back to take a look at his brother. He wanted to see his face and touch every millimeter of his skin to make sure there’s no scare on it. Fortunately, he didn’t find a single scratch nor cut.

“See? I’m okay. Maybe hungry, but perfectly fine.”

“Do you want me to cook something?" Junhong asked, pointing at the kitchen behind his back. "We have noodles and anchovies so I can make a guksu soup for the two of us. Oh, and we can watch a movie! How about _The Nice Guys_? I really want to watch it.”

Jiho nodded and let out a small gasp, “it sounds good, but we can’t do it tonight.” 

An angelic smile disappeared from the younger's face, changing his facial expression into confusion.

“Why so?”

“I’m taking you out. For dinner.”

“What? Are you serious?!” Junhong was so shocked. Jiho didn't take him anywhere, not even to the grocery store at the corner of Seongnam Street they lived on, yet he stated such thing. It must be a joke, a not funny one.

“Yeah, you can put on something nice if you want. Maybe your weird socks, hm? And that coat I bought you last year.”

“But you always say-,

“Not tonight,” Jiho spat, eye smiling at his younger brother. “Today is your birthday, isn’t it?”

Junhong clapped his hands and hugged Jiho again, even tighter than before. It was his birthday today but he didn't think about it as a celebration. Last year he got birthday wishes and Xbox, the best present he would ever ask for. Jiho sang him a birthday song as well, but since his voice was too raspy, Junhong couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I thought you forgot!”

“How could I forget about my little brother’s birthday?" Jiho snorted, patting his brother's back. He wanted to ruffle his soft hair either, but he didn’t do it eventually. "Tonight you’re a prince and I’m your servant, okay? Ask me whatever you want and I will do it with a pleasure.”

“Is it a joke?”

“Not at all. We’re going out in half an hour so you’d better hurry up.”

“I love you, hyung!”

Jiho nodded as his brother wore a bright smile for him again. “Your hyung loves you too,” he answered, already feeling guilty that he couldn’t make Junhong happy as often as he wanted to. But today was Junhong’s birthday and he had to do everything to see that beautiful smile of the teenager’s.

“You will end up with an empty wallet, I’m not kidding, hyung!”

Soon after, Jiho patted his head again and Junhong run into his bedroom, slipped into black jeans and a fitted white turtleneck, then shrugged his suede coat on but left its belt untied. He simply combed his hair like James Dean but as soon as he appeared in front of Jiho, his brother’s hand ruffled his hair into a mess again. Junhong pouted, but eventually placed his comb into a pocket, knowing that he didn’t look good with that hairstyle.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Junhong nodded, smiling in excitement, “I think I am.”

~*~

Moon Jongup’s personality was like a Pandora’s box. Everyone could look at him but one was able to look through him. Everyone wanted to look inside of him but no one was able to bear with it. Thus far, there were a lot of things which had to stay hidden from people’s eyes. Even Kim Himchan didn’t know everything about his favorite henchmen. He trusted him, of course, but he was aware that Pandora’s box mustn’t be opened.

That night, when Jongup’s shift was over, he found himself in front of an old, terraced building he didn’t visit for a long time. Every single window of the building was covered with thin wood trim, streaks of condensation visible on the plastic. The door was covered as well, conversely with scraps of broken grey boards nailed over it. It had to be abandoned at the first sight but Jongup knew that behind that door he would find a hallway with another door at the end of it. A secret place where someone was waiting for him already. A place he would call ‘Hades.’

He looked over to make sure no one was around, then knocked three times at grey boards, counted to five and knocked three times again. He had to wait only few minutes and when that time passed, an old man in his fifties opened the door to let him come in. Jongup did it in a rush, not saying anything to the man, then walked quickly to the end of the dark hallway.

After he passed the second door, he appeared in the middle of a sort of pub. The smell of cigarettes, wood and cheap beer coiled him up, causing his nose twitching. He didn’t like such places. He preferred banquets and other formal events where he always had to wear a double-breasted dinner suit and scooped black tie waistcoat. Pubs were dirty, classless, boorish. That pub had bare boards with sawdust, hard bench seats and tasteless beer. Jongup wasn’t meant to appear in such places.

He hastily crossed the main room in the direction of the snug with a frosted glass external window and black studded leather sofa. There was only one man sitting on it, a glass of Sherry in his hand and a grey hood over his head like Assassin. He didn’t look at Jongup, just lifted up his wine glass and spoke in an accent that was hardly understandable, “stop grilling at me and key, Jongup-ssi.”

“I didn’t come drinking nor joking. Take your hood out, please. I would like to see your eyes.”

“I don’t feel like it, sorry.”

Jongup snorted but still had that blank, cold expression on his face. Smiling didn’t suit him. “How have you been?”

“Could have been better, na means,” sighed the hooded man and pointed at the sofa, “sit down, let’s make a little conversation, can we?”

Jongup nodded and sat down on the end of the sofa. He liked to keep a distance from everyone, even his friends couldn’t step through this barrier.

“Okay,” said the hooded man, after he took a sip of his beloved Sherry, “now you can tell me about Yoo Youngjae. Is he… still alive?”

“Would you rather it was you?”

“So he’s dead, huh?”

“No, but it is only a matter of time.”

The hooded men gulped audibly and curled his fingers into palm. Jongup could admit his associate was worried, although his face was still hidden by grey material of his hood. After a while he noticed leftover of cocaine on the table and gave a snort of disgust. Of course he was high. “Do you still care about him?” asked Jongup.

“The fuck? Why would I care? Fuck you, Jongup-ssi. Yo boy a smut in my eyes.”

“Of course.”

“Who did you hired to kill him?”

“I thought you don’t care,” Jongup chuckled at funny behavior of the hooded man and crossed his legs.

The hooded man lifted his glass of wine to his mouth and swallowed it all at once in a way that showed his angriness, “I’m just curious, yooz guys are pissing me off.”

“Stop using your shitty Busan satoori, you’re pissing me off as well.”

“Who. Is. The. Hitman.”

“Bang Yongguk.”

His associate took off the hood and looked at Jongup, furrowing his brow. Jongup was sure that the man snorted two lines of cocaine before he came in here and now his burst of energy was turning into feeling of irritability formed with vertigo. “Who the fuck is Bang Yongguk?” the man asked as his muscles started to twitching.

“You don’t know him. I myself don’t know him at all. No one does. That is the point.”

“And where did you find that _amazing_ guy?”

“We have a friend in common.” 

“But why can’t you kill Youngjae on your own?”

The answer he got after a little while made him laugh, “I don’t kill people.”

“I see,” nodded the man and licked his plump bottom lip. “You wanker, hired a shadow to eat my Youngjae up. My little sneaky whore. I see.”

Jongup smirked at these words, shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and he pulled out a playing card folded in half. The latter couldn’t see what was that. “Unfold it.”

He did so and laughed to himself as he saw a beautiful but also calamitous ace. He knew that card too well because he himself put it under a drinking glass of Sazerac a couple of days ago. “I think I know that Bang Yongguk. Maybe even more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I still have his semen on the tip of my tongue.”

~*~

That night Choi Junhong, a little brother of Woo Jiho, was the happiest boy on this planet. And he didn't need much. He found himself in a Thai Restaurant, eating as much as he could and joking with Jiho who was having a lot of fun either. The both of them were talking about a trip they would like to have in the future. Maybe next year, when Jiho will have his duties finished. But now, they had to enjoy the moment.

The Thai Restaurant they were in was a small but incredible nice and cozy place fulfilled with smell of garlic, chili, lemongrass and curry. Food was outstanding and authentic, something they both would like to eat every day. They ordered Thai green curry and Massaman Thai curry with a couple of Chang beers. Junhong liked it very much, especially beers, since it was the first time Jiho let him drink an alcohol.

“Let's visit Prague, what do you think?” asked Junhong, after he took a drink of his beer and smacked his lips. “I googled some European countries and Czech Republic is definitely a place I would like to live in.”

“I don't know. I was thinking about Vilnius,” said Jiho, grabbing another piece of chicken in his chopsticks.

“Vilnius? Where is it?”

“It's Lithuania's capitol.”

“Okay, sounds good. We will visit Czech Republic, Lithuania and Denmark then. And maybe Bulgaria, I have to think about it.”

“You?” asked Jiho, his lips curled into a smile. “I'm the boss!”

“No, you're my servant. You should bow as low as you can and say 'manse, manse, Junhong-mama, manse, manse' and keep telling it until I would like you to stop.”

Jiho rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement. His younger brother really enjoyed himself tonight. But that was good. He deserved to be happy at least for a short moment. He was the most precious kid on this planet, someone whom Jiho needed to protect with everything he had. His Rapunzel with short hair and long, gorgeous legs.

“I'm hungwwy” said Junhong, then opened mouth in a way Jiho could feed him, “awh, duh-delicous... Gawd... so good…”

“Shut up, stupid. People are looking at us,” murmured Jiho, his cheeks and nose suddenly reddening. His brother behaved in a specified way, sometimes too ambiguous. Maybe it was a cause of an alcohol.

A wide smile appeared on the younger's face when a certain idea came to his childish mind. He looked over and sighed audibly, to make people stare at him again.

“Hyung,” he paused to lick his bottom lip, “you always treat me so good... Can you put it in my mouth again? My mouth is always ready for you!”

Jiho choked and got embarrassed about words which his brother had carelessly spoke. It was just a joke, of course, but he didn’t have that sense of humor and he didn't find it funny. One moment Junhong was the cutest kid in Seoul, the next he was cocky teenager with a playful smirk and alluring eyes. He was just too much.

“Stand up, go to the toilet and wash your face with cold water, please.”

“Hyuuung!”

“I don’t hear you.”

“Hyung I’m sorry! I won’t say it again! I won’t say anything naughty in public, I promise.”

“You,” sighed Jiho, pointing at his beloved brother, “are not able to say such things no matter where you are and with who you are. I wanted to go clubbing with you tonight but I guess you’re too immature.”

Delight shone in Junhong’s eyes as his brother admitted he would like to go clubbing with him. The younger boy had that feeling like it was just a dream. Real Jiho wouldn’t take him to the club. Real Jiho would pat his head and make him go to sleep before 10pm, wearing warm pajamas and hugging a teddy bear. But it wasn’t a dream at all. It was his eighteenth birthday.

“I want to go to the club! I promise you to behave well, hyung, please, let’s go! I want to stay up all night and dance with you until I can’t feel my legs!”

Woo Jiho wasn’t sure about it. He risked a lot today, taking his Rapunzel out, when the Shadow could be just around the corner. Or maybe that time it was the Light who wanted to haunt the Shadow. And it all would turn into a tragedy of god-given fate.

~*~

Bang Yongguk sighed deeply as he walked into the Circuit Night Club by the side entrance. He could hear the sound of soca music mixing up with the clinking of glasses and drone-like chatter of hundred best friends and lovers. As he inhaled deeply, the intermingled smells of smoke and sweat assaulted his nostrils. It was all Natasha’s idea. She always chose places to meet and unfortunately these places were always too loud and too crowded. He was glad that he came here with Daehyun. It would be no fun if he would come alone.

Because if he didn’t have Daehyun beside him, he wouldn’t be able to place his hand between the bartender’s slim thighs and feel free to grab his crotch whenever he would like to do it. He wouldn’t be able to push him into the toilet of the nightclub, shove him into the tiny stall and make him bend with both hand supporting his weight on the wall. He wouldn’t be able to fuck him raw, grunt and moan, sink his teeth into Daehyun’s warm skin. He wouldn’t be able to chuckle when hot semen and hints of blood would still dripping down Daehyun’s thigh.

So, when Yongguk walked out of the stall and zipped up his pants, he was really glad that he came here with the bartender.

On the second floor of the club was a large room used for conversation. It had four curtained windows and few round, solid metal tables strategically placed around the establishment for people to rest drinks, cell phones and purses. It was much quieter here than on the first floor so it was a good place to have a chat.

Natasha was sitting at the table in the corner of the room. She waved at his brother and his associate as soon as she noticed them but Yongguk didn’t share her excitement. He just walked over and sat directly cross from her and Daehyun sat next to Yongguk, his hands stuffed down his trouser pockets. Yongguk looked at his sister and locked his eyes on her hair. She must cut it lately because it was shorter than before, too short for Yongguk’s liking.

Natasha glanced at her brother’s new _friend_. He had stunning, dark brown eyes, black hair slicked back and flawless, olive skin. Yongguk and Natasha had the same taste in men so it was obvious that she was already interested in Daehyun who looked like Greek God Apollo.

“You must be Daehyun, am I right?” asked Natasha, her red lips curled into a wide smile.

“And you must be Natasha. Nice to meet you.”

“How long have you known each other?”

Yongguk shrugged and unzipped his jacked, luring tattoos leaning out of the collar of his black shirt and tanned skin encouraging to press your lips against it. Then he placed his hand between Daehyun’s thighs and glanced at his curious sister. “For a long time.”

Natasha grinned. “How old are you, Daehyun?” she asked.

Daehyun took Yongguk’s hand and put it on his crotch. A playful smirk appeared on his face but he still looked calm and poised.

“Twenty three.”

“And what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a bartender.”

“Where?”

Yongguk rolled his eyes and sighed, “for fuck’s sake, Tash. Are you interviewer or what?”

“It’s okay,” said Daehyun. “Will you buy us a drink? I’m thirsty.”

Yongguk nodded and stood up, “right, enjoy each other’s company then.”

After he left out of the room, he appeared on the stairs, planning to stay on the first floor a while and find something to entertain him. He took the stairs two at a time and quickly headed down to the first floor. Then he straddled a barstool, glanced over and nodded to the bartender. The bartender nodded back, pointing at sweet bourbon, vermouth and angostura bottles, mint leaves, sugar cubes, crushed ice and orange peels, “Wanna get one?”

As Yongguk agreed, the bartender slightly smashed fresh mint with the sugar cube at the bottom of the tulip glass. Then he added the bourbon along with the crushed ice and gave finished whiskey drink to Yongguk, “here you go.”

It didn’t taste as good as Daehyun’s drinks and it wasn’t good enough to satisfy Yongguk. He let out a sigh and looked over the dance floor.

He didn’t like dancing and didn’t dance well, but he loved watching at people who danced like it was the hidden language of the soul. Like it was everything they were. Like they were breathing their moves.

Dancing was a vitality, an energy, a strange glitter, floundering life. A beautiful poem written with pirouettes, sways and axes. Dancing was a beauty with a burning violin. Most of the people in the crowd in front of Yongguk’s eyes didn’t get it. They were moving their bodies but they weren’t dancing. They weren’t dancing him to the end of his senses and he was craving for it.

But then, when Yongguk was about to turn around and finish his drink, he saw the Light. He saw the Light and got caught up in something that words couldn’t express. A kind of imaginary art. A joyful boy who was twisting and twirling, his eyes shut and neon lights glistening upon his blonde hair.

It was like a deep, unfolding trance. Incantation of the mind stuck in infinite glow.

Yongguk wasn’t even looking at the boy’s features. He wasn’t looking at his little snub nose, pale lips or thick eyelashes. It was all about the boy’s moves, his feet blessing the dancefloor and hips swaying like a lazy ocean. Yongguk lusted him.

And in that moment when Yongguk realized his lust, had already known that he had to grab the boy’s wrist and make sure that he was real.

He hastily put down his glass and stood up, then he crossed the dancefloor and grinned as he finally stood in front of the blonde dancer. The blonde dancer let out a moan when Yongguk held his waist and he could feel his own hips crushing Yongguk’s. “I fancy you,” said Yongguk.

“Ex-cuh-cuse m-me?” the blonde dancer spoke, his sparkling eyes full of confusion and fear. He wanted to pull out of the stranger. “I duh-don’t understand. Cuh-can you let go of me?”

Yonnguk smirked but didn’t do it, still holding him tight. “As I said, I fancy you, dancer.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still heating up, still at the start of the big shit I'm going to blow off. 
> 
> Let me know what do you think about this chapter and stay tuned!


	5. every sin leaves a mark

The cab was waiting right in front of the main door of Thai Restaurant as Junhong and his brother went out of the building. Junhong has never been to a nightclub and now he was finally going to stay there up all night, and he couldn’t help but he was really excited about it.

That night, on Junhong's birthday, everything felt like a dream to the teenager. Neon lights were entertaining his eyes all the way to the nightclub and the blood was coursing very fast through his veins while he was thinking about the fun he would be having very soon. The bottle of beer he had drank before made his cheeks pink and his lips were curled into a smile.

Jiho told him about the rules. Junhong mustn't have any drinks from anyone, not even a glass of water. Junhong mustn't leave the main hall of the nightclub without Jiho's permission. Junhong mustn't act naughty nor dance too seductive. Junhong mustn't disappear from Jiho's eyes not even for one second.

"Junnie-ah, I have one more conditional for you," said Jiho, his hand gently squeezing his brother’s knee. "Tonight you're not Choi Junhong, right? You're not able to introduce yourself as Junhong. Me myself won't call you Junhong, either. Are we okay, baby brother?"

The teenager nodded and smiled politely even though he didn't really understand it. No one knew him anyway. But if his hyung wanted such a thing from him, he was going to forget his name for tonight.

"Alright."

Everything was going to be alright. As long as his hyung was next to him, Junhong was sure about it. He was still sure when they headed the nightclub and came inside, mix of sweat, perfumes and alcohol greeting their nostrils. He reached to Jiho's hand, locked their fingers for a moment and smiled widely when he looked at his older brother.

"Will we have a drink at first?" he asked politely, hoping that he could taste a little bit of alcohol before he would find himself on the dancefloor.

Jiho agreed and they walked over the counter to order something sweet and strong. Because of its amount of vodka, Junhong couldn't drink the whole glass of his drink but Jiho let him to take a few sips now and said to wait some time for another.

"Happy birthday, brother," said Jiho, touching his chubby cheek. "Enjoy yourself on the dancefloor, hmm? I will be watching you from here."

"So you're not going to dance with me..."

"I'm too sober to dance," joked Jiho. "Later maybe, I'm sorry."

"O-okay. I understand," said Junhong, nodding his head. "But you have to keep eyes on me, hyung. I want you to see anyone but me!"

"Of course I will. You're the most beautiful dancer I have ever known. I always see only you."

Junhong was happy. He was going to dance for his hyung and no one else because no one else did matter to him for now. As for Jiho, he would always believe and trust him more and more, even though his hyung was doing nothing but lying.

He took a deep breath and went to the dancefloor, his heart beating enormously fast. Then he just shut his eyes and felt the music, swaying his hips in the way the blood was shooting in his veins. He was so light, so fragile. He spun around, placed his hand on his waist and danced like he was made to hypnotize everyone with his moves. He didn’t really know that someone was actually looking at his every single move and every single hair flip.

And even though he didn’t really know — he gave his best performance, entertaining one stranger’s eyes.

***

Jiho sighed after taking a sip of his cocktail and smiled to himself. His baby brother has grown up so much and he wasn’t a baby anymore. Though he acted like a child sometimes, he was a lot mature than before. Jiho started wondering if he should tell him. Junhong has been trained for eight years from now and he was well-skilled in self-defense, using different types of weapons and escaping from every kind of traps.

But was he really ready to know the truth?

Before Jiho could answer his question, his phone started ringing, “what’s going on, Kyu—,”

“Where the fuck are you?!”

“I’m busy, Kyung.”

“As if!” screamed Kyung and Jiho felt little insecure about his friend’s voice. Something must be wrong. “Red alarm! Red fucking alarm!”

…Did he just hear gunshots and scream?

What he heard was a sound of a mini sonic boom simultaneously with sort of an explosion and that was really scary.

Jiho gulped, squeezing his phone, “what are you talking about? Calm down. What is happening here?”

“Listen to me, Zico,” Kyung’s voice seemed raspy now. He was angry and insecure. “There is a shootout at underground, Garak Market, I’ve already called for our people bu—, fuck! I nearly got shot in my head! Fucking bastards!” he hissed, and Jiho’s heart stopped for a moment. “I need you here!”

“But I’m with Junhong and I… can’t leave him here…”

“Junhong my ass! There is a fucking order, better turn up before I bleed myself out! I won’t repeat myself!”

Jiho gritted his teeth. He was confused and he didn’t know what to do. Junhong mustn’t stay here alone but, on the other hand, Jiho had to hurry and help his fellow. If there was a real shootout, he didn’t have rights to refuse. Thus far, in that game he was only a pawn and not even a knight.

He looked at his brother for last time, whispering, “I’m sorry, Junnie. Hyung has to go.”

And then he just left him without letting Junhong know.

(He thought Junhong will be safe and come back hope after he’d realize that he stayed alone but Jiho didn’t notice Yongguk’s greedy glance and that was his biggest mistake).

***

Junhong was caught off guard when he felt someone’s hands on his tiny waist. He took a deep breath and glanced at stranger who dared to touch him, and before he could protest, the man pulled him even closer. “I fancy you,” he said with a smirk.

“Ex-cuh-cuse m-me?” asked Junhong, not even knowing how to breath properly. The man’s touch was too paralyzing and his own chest felt heavy like there was a rock in it. He tried to pull out only to be pulled closer again. _Too close_. “I duh-don’t understand. Cuh-can you let go of me?”

“As I said, I fancy you, dancer.”

“I duh-don’t want you to touch me,” Junhong panted, trying to calm himself. It was really hard, though, cause the stranger’s eyes were too intimidating.

The man just snorted. “Why so?” he asked and you could tell he was having fun with the teenager.

Junhong felt urge to run away. Not because he was scared. He had that kind of feeling that he would lose himself in less than a few minutes if he’s stayed in stranger’s arms a little longer. He gulped, looking around, then said, “I’m with someone…”

“Really,” chuckled the male, looking in the same direction. ‘ _Hyung isn’t here anymore’_ , Junhong noticed and the stranger smiled to himself. “With who? That guy over there?”

“N-n-no. My hyung… he’s supposed to sit-, I can’t find him..”

The man didn’t need anything more. He placed his hand on the dancer’s neck and pulled him closer to lick his soft skin.

The dancer shivered. He felt paralyzed like he wasn’t able to do anything. And now he was really scared, almost terrified.

“Let guh-go of me, please,” he tried to let himself free but his voice was too quiet.

“But you are mine now, aren’t you? I can’t let go of you.”

“Y-y-yours? I’m not yo-, ahh-,” he moaned when the stranger’s lips crashed with his skin. Junhong felt the sharp pain intensifying as the stranger teeth grazed the skin.

Junhong gripped on the elder’s t-shirt before the male started to draw blood to the surface. He was nipping so hungrily at Junhong’s neck, that Junhong felt like he was going to faint all of sudden. Then the stranger just licked over sensitive area and stepped back, so Junhong could see his smirk.

Junhong’s fingers drifted up to his neck. He took a deep breath when he dabbed over the sore spot.

“See?” asked the stranger, looking at the beautiful hickey. “I think you are mine now.”

Junhong didn’t answer. He was just holding his hand on the sore spot, looking at the stranger. Tears stood in his eyes, ready to run down his flushed cheeks. He didn’t stop them, though.

And then something changed in the elder’s expression. He wasn’t smirking anymore. He furrowed and murmured, “the fuck? Why are you crying?”

He met plenty of people in his life. He fucked a lot of people, too. But no one of them had ever cried because of such things. People always wanted more. And he was giving them more. That was boring, though. Because he wasn’t satisfied with none of them at all.

He glanced at the boy and felt that something was pounding really painfully in his chest. He didn’t know what was that. But he was sure about one thing.

He made that kid cry and terrified. And he didn’t like it.

“What the fuck is with you?” asked the male, reaching to Junhong’s cheek. Instead of wiping his tears off, he looked at the flushed part of skin on his neck.

God, he wanted to leave so many hickeys on this body…

Junhong gulped, turned his head to the side and swatted him straight away. “Please don’t touch m-me…” he sniffled and the stranger was getting irritated over his behavior.

But before he could do anything, he heard Natasha’s voice behind his back, “what the fuck are you doing?!”

He rolled his eyes and turned around only to see his sister’s angry gaze, “I am doing nothing you could forbid me, Tash. Fuck off.”

She quickly walked up to Junhong who started sniffling again, looking worn out and puffy from crying. She gently placed her hand on his head and smiled politely to comfort him. “Hello, I’m Natasha,” she said softly. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Junhong remembered his brother’s words and glanced at the male who seemed really pissed off. It was probably because of the male’s sister.

“So?”

“I’m… Zel-lo…”  

Natasha nodded her head and patted his head.

“Are you here for your own?” she asked and when she noticed her brother was about to leave them, she growled, “stay the fuck here and don’t move. You made that kid cry!”

“Whatever,” he sighed.

Natasha looked at Junhong and smiled at him again.

“I came here with m-my older brother cause it’s my buh-birthday…” he said eventually. “Hyung was sitting there,” he added and pointed at the counter in front of the dancefloor. The spot was empty now and Jiho was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe you should just phone him, hmm?”

“I duh-don’t have phone…”

“I see,” Natasha nodded and looked at her brother. “Hey, you bastard. Call a cab for him. He’s going home.”

“Why the fuck I would do it?!”

Tears streamed down Junhong’s flushed face again and he wiped them quickly with the back of his palms. He glared at the male, though the vision was blurred by his tears, and clenched his fists tightly as his sides, not wanting to cry in the goddamn club. He felt pathetic and tired.

“Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” he heard Natasha’s soft voice and it calmed his inside. “I’m sorry that my brother hurt you. He didn’t mean it, I believe, but he’s just a fucking moron sometimes. A fucking caveman, that’s it.” Then she turned to the male, narrowing her eyes at him, and started to talk again, “what are you waiting for, _Yongguk_? Say sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry that my sister ruined our fun. Sorry as fuck. Can I go now?”

“I told you,” said Natasha, while gritting her teeth. “We’re going out of the building to wait for a cab for baby Zelo. We can’t leave him alone or else another dick will place his hands on his body.”

“Are you kidding me…”

So Bang Yongguk just wanted to have fun with one stunning dancer and now he was standing in front of the nightclub with a crybaby-dancer and Natasha who just ruined everything. And he just remembered that Daehyun must be somewhere. ‘ _Fucking great’_ , he thought.

He looked at that so-called Zelo, raking his hand through his own dark hair. Zelo looked like he was sixteen years old so he shouldn’t find him sexy but there was something about him that was making Yongguk crazy. He wanted to lick his milky skin and bite it everywhere. He wanted to grab his round ass before slapping it roughly. He wanted to see his shut eyes while taking him towards the cold window and smearing precum all over the fucking glass.

“Sweetheart, the cab is here!”

Yongguk sighed irritably, looking at Zelo for the last time. Before the teenager disappeared from his sight, he grabbed his wrist and whispered, “remember that you’re mine.”

And that was what the teenager did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooooo I'm really sorry for not updating for so long but I was really busy with school and I couldn't focus on that story as much as I wanted to, I hope you understand:((  
> anyway! I'll try to post the next chapter in a few days, just wait for it and let me know if you like my work ^^  
> love you all~!


	6. the wicked baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! too much work :((

As Junhong pulled out of the driveway of the club, he took a deep breath. It had been a rough night. His brother disappeared from his eyes and that stranger dared to touch him… Junhong should hate him for that and he though he did, but his body seemed to like the touch of the male. That was so strange and uncomfortable.

Getting out of the cab, the memory of that scene washed over him. He should be disgusted and angry, yet he started looking for explanations. Maybe that man didn’t want to hurt him? He looked scary but judging people by their looks wasn’t right. His touch didn’t feel bad, too. It was new to Junhong because he had never been in that kind of situation before, so maybe he just misunderstood him?

Opening the front door, Junhong tried to concentrate on holding back his tears. He turned on the lights just to be greeted by an emptiness. And sadness.

Slowly he walked into his room, not even discarding his coat nor shoes. He stopped by the bed and picked up the large teddy bear that Jiho gave him on his twelfth birthday. Tears made the bear waver. Holding the bear on his chest, tears began to flow.

“Where are you, hyung,” he whispered. “My heart is breaking, hyung. It is tearing me to pieces.”

It wasn’t physically piercing him but the paralyzing discomfort was real. He hardly stepped out of the room and walked into the living room. Under his rear, the sofa was lumpy. He reached for the blanket under him and inhaled Jiho’s scent. He tried to slip into a peaceful sleep but every time he closed his eyes, he saw that man’s eyes.

He just waited unknowing.

And waited.

And waited and cried.

So when he finally heard that someone opened the door, he thought it was just an illusion. An effect of tiredness. That his imagination was playing tricks on him.  

Jiho walked into the living room just to see his baby brother sitting on the sofa, holding the bear and sobbing like he was going to die. That scenery made him feel exactly like shit. He quickly run to him, “Junhong, what is happening? I’m here, calm down.”

Junhong needed just few second to make sure Jiho was really standing in front of him. He dropped his teddy bear and stood up.

“Where you were, hyung?” he asked, thick tears running down his pink cheeks for some reason he couldn’t figure why. He grabbed on material of Jiho’s t-shirt, pulling him closer so he could feel a warmth of his body. “I… I was… Y-you were guh-gone and-,”

“I’m sorry, brother. They called me and I didn’t have a choice.”

“I was suh-scared that something might huh-happened-d t-to you…”

“Calm down,” said Jiho eventually, taking Junhong’s coat off. “I will make you some hot tea. Don’t cry, Junhong. Everything is alright. We are safe now. No one will hurt you here, right?”

And Junhong believed him. He believed every single word that came from his hyung’s mouth.

He got undressed, took a shower, put pajamas on and sat on a sofa right next to Jiho. He drank tea, stopped crying and got calm. Then Jiho asked him, “how did you come back home?”

“By a cab,” answered Junhong, remembering beautiful smile of that woman named Natasha. He also remembered her brother. His dark, haunting eyes, ominous smirk and lips pressed to his neck. _His neck…_

Jiho didn’t see the hickey at first because it was covered with turtleneck. Now, when Junhong was in his pajamas, the mark was fully visible. If Jiho would have sat on the other side of the teenager, he would see it. Junhong gulped and turned his head a little not to let him see.

“What are you doing, hyung?”

“What? I’m just thinking abo-,

“I’m talking about your job. I know nothing about it and it makes me feel insecure,” confessed Junhong, looking at his sweaty palms. “I want to believe it is not bad, though I know you have secrets and I don’t really like it.”

“I will explain everything to you soon. I promise.”

“How soon?”

“I’m not sure,” said Jiho. He was sad and ashamed that there were things he had to hide from Junhong’s eyes. There was too much darkness for the fragile and glorious Light. “It’s time for you to sleep. I’m sure you’re tired.”

They stood up and walked into Junhong’s room. Junhong laid down on the bed but as soon as Jiho stepped outside, Junhong called after him, “hyung!”

“What? Do you need something?”

“Can we sleep together, hyung? Just like we used to do as kids?”

Jiho sighed and crossed his arms.

“Gosh, you’re still a baby. I pick side against wall, then.”

***

“You’re fucking kidding me…”

That was what Youngjae said when he figured out they had given him wrong location. Now he was in the middle of fucking nowhere, standing in a dark alley that supposed to be at scene of a shootout. He didn’t hear anything and didn’t see a single thing either. He hardly noticed the sky from here.

There was a shootout at underground and police needed some backing from them, National Intelligence Service, so they called for Youngjae and two other agents. It didn’t happen often, because they didn’t like to cooperate with each other and police had their Rangers for such things, but the situation was really serious.

At first they told him the shootout is near the Garak Market in Songpa-gu but as soon as he pulled out of the driveway of Agency, they changed the location. He should have known that something was wrong from the moment they changed it.

He snorted and let a sigh.

“Jung Daehyun,” he said, being so sure of the latter’s presence. “I assume you were so desperate to see me that you had to make a mess.”

He started counting.

_One…_

_Two…_

_Thr-,_

Youngjae was caught off guard when someone’s hands grabbed his hips and pulled him back from the middle of the alley. His heart stopped for a moment when he made sure it was really Daehyun who attacked him.

Youngjae didn’t defend himself, though.

He almost forgot how he looked like. How he smelled like. How his lips tasted like.

It’s been a year since they had walked down different paths. Youngjae had chosen his job. Daehyun had chosen his freedom. After all the love between an agent of National Intelligence Service and junkie whore was not supposed to survive. They had given up. Said goodbye to each other. Blanked everything out.  

“Someone’s coming after you,” Daehyun panted. His hands were pressed against Youngjae’s hips, holding him close to his body. Too close. Too intimate. “You’re half-dead, baby.”

“What are you talking about,” whispered Youngjae. He felt sudden heat taking control over his body.

“I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. If it wasn’t me who had saved you, you would have bullet in that pretty little head of yours. Right... here, “ Daehyun whispered, gently touching Youngjae’s temple.

“This isn’t funny, Jung Dae-,”

“No, it isn’t.” Amusement laced his voice. “It’s just I find it fascinating that someone hates you more than I do.”

Youngjae felt Daehyun’s lips crashing into his temple and his ear. He didn’t stop him, not paying attention to his moves. All he was thinking about was what the latter had said before.

“Who is this bastard? What do you mean by saying you’d saved me? What the actual fuck?”

“Don’t know. I will not save you next time, so you better pray a lot for the forgiveness of your dirty sins.”

“You’re kidding me,” he snorted feeling like laughing at him. Daehyun’s words were ridiculous and senseless.

“I’m sorry but not today,” sighed Daehyun, after he placed a single kiss on Youngjae’s neck. “It was nice to love you, though. To have my heart broken because of someone like you. To bleed myself to the edge of death because of you and still want you to play with me. Go to hell, baby.”

And after that he let him free just to walk away. He even laughed while disappearing behind the corner of the alley, the sound of his laughter echoing in Youngjae’s head.

Youngjae took a deep breath and clenched his fists, feeling urge to crash the wall or kick the trashcan. But instead of it he just smiled to himself, already knowing that Daehyun’s words were true.

***

He was fucking bored.

Bang Yongguk was laying on the king-sized bed staring up at the ceiling and he was really bored but he couldn’t have even a little bit of fun because of his sister who just stepped out of the bathroom. She was wearing his favorite red towel like it was her possession and the smile on her face was screaming ‘ _kiss my ass, bastard_ ’.

“Are you still mad because of Zelo?” she asked as she sat next to Yongguk.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, choosing not to answer.

After the kid was gone he had looked over the club to find Daehyun but the bartender was nowhere to be found. He just disappeared and didn’t answer Yongguk’s calls. When Yongguk and Natasha came back to Yongguk’s flat, he simply texted him an emoji. The one that was sticking their tongue out. Such a funny text.  

And now, in the middle of the night that seemed like it was never going to end, he was laying on bed and looking at Natasha, wanting her to fuck off. Oh God, how badly he wanted to be alone right now… Maybe not alone, actually. It would be nice to have Daehyun’s lips around his dick tonight. Seeing Natasha wasn’t something he would find interesting.

“Tell me, Guk.”

“What should I tell you?”

“The truth,” she said. Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, and Yongguk knew something was wrong. The sudden change of her expression made him insecure in a blink of an eye. “Why are you here, brother? Just simply why?”

Confusion appeared on his face. She never asked about it and he came back from United States two months ago. It was the truth that he was supposed to never appear here again as he had promised five years ago, but some things left unfinished and he had to fix it.

After a few minutes, he chose the easiest answer.

“I just missed my big sister, that’s all.”

“Bullshit. You hate Seoul. Except killing people there’s nothing for you to do. You can’t lie to me.”

He clenched his fists and smirked. There was _something_ for him to do and they both were aware of it. Natasha didn’t want to admit it, though. What happened five years ago should not be a reason for Yongguk to stay here. But he wanted revenge. He couldn’t let his memories go. They were still not fading, keeping him on the edge of the crater.

“After I’m done, I’ll leave again,” he promised. “I just.. have to.. I have to do it, Tash. I don’t need your shitty advices.”

“But it won’t give his life back.”

He started laughing at her words, looking almost like a psychopath who’s laughing at his victim with their heart in his hand. He stood up, walked to the cabinet and pulled his Beretta M9 out. Then he placed a finger on the trigger and pointed at an empty frame hanging on the wall.

“This fucking bastard killed our brother and you think it’s okay? A life for a life, an eye for an eye, don’t you remember?”

“What are you going to do, Guk?”

“I will kill his younger brother,” he said. “I will take Jiho’s brother’s life just like he did the same to my Yongnam. I just need to find him. That’s why I came back, Tash.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well---  
> I finally got my shit together and finished this chapter. It was rrreally hard, I swear. Hope the next chapter won't be so problematic to write or else I'm going to kill myself. 
> 
> Oh and I have good news! I'm graduating high school in one month and a half and I'm going to have a lot of free time (yeah that means I will be able to post more often).
> 
> It would be nice if you could leave a comment, hehe ^.^


	7. let me tell you a story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm just letting you know chil sung pa and hwang song sung pa are real gangs in south korea but I completely made up the whole story about those mafias so it is useful for me and the plot thank you ;))

When Junhong woke up the next day, having his hyung beside him, he felt really safe. He almost forgot about the previous night and he thought of it as it was just a dream. He smiled to himself and placed a gentle kiss on Jiho’s head, who was sleeping soundly like he needed it the most, then sat up carefully to not wake him up. Junhong got out of bed and directed towards the kitchen. He wanted to make some breakfast, even though he wasn’t that good at cooking. Most of the time they just ordered some Mexican food from restaurant nearby.

He took eggs, beef, swiss chard, cooked grain rice, soy sauce, red bell pepper and onions from the fridge, after he decided to improvise.

“Dear Lord,” he said, searching for a medium-sized skillet, “do you think my brother is a good person? Would you forgive him if he wasn’t? He is good to me. He forbids me everything, it is a fact, but I think he does it to protect me. World is a filthy place, isn’t it? Jiho says so. And that man I met yesterday… That was a bad person. My hyung isn’t someone like him.”

He add some oil and heated it before adding beef and season with salt and pepper. Then he took out the rice cooker and add three cups of water into the pot.

“Could you please take care of Jiho?” he started mumbling again. “I can’t lose him. I know it is selfish, though. You have my eomma and appa with you but you can’t take him away. I am sorry. He is my only… ohh, the beef is cooked already!”

Junhong was a hard believer. When he was a child, Jiho had thought him that God will always hear him out and if he would pray, God would always help him. When he was thirteen, Jiho took him to the church. They were praying all night and Jiho cried a lot, apologizing to God for something he had done. After that time, he never prayed again. Junhong didn’t know why but he decided to not ask. He started praying for him, instead.

He sighed, clicking the rice cooker “on”. When he poured an orange juice, Jiho came to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here, hmm?” he asked as he stood next to Junhong. He was still sleepy and his hair looked like a nest.

“Well… a swiss chard rice and rolled omelet, since we don’t have much products and my skills are kinda poor. Don’t complain, please, or else I will eat everything by myself. Technically I can’t because my stomach is small and I have to stay skinny but, you know, I can force myself.”

“I can eat everything you give me, keep going,” said Jiho, deciding to not disturb Junhong. He simply sat on the table and waited until everything was done.

When Junhong finished cooking and sat opposite to his brother, he folded his hands in prayer. “Bless us, oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

Jiho said nothing. He smiled a little and took a sip of his orange juice.

“Hyung,” Junhong said after a little while.

“Huh?”

“Are you free today? I mean… we hardly see each other these days and I don’t like being alone, to be honest.”

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Junhong shook his head. “It is just me being too clingy I guess.”

“No. You’re right. I should be here more often.”

“But you won’t,” said Junhong, feeling sadness all of sudden. He lost his appetite.

“We will talk after the breakfast,” said Jiho.

“About what?”

“Life. You. Us,” he replied. “Now eat, Junhong, please. You look like a ghost.”

Junhong nodded, looking at his plate. Were they going to talk about something really important? He wondered. It would be nice to finally know what was going on, though Junhong was sure, the truth could hurt him. On the other hand, it was better to know and he felt ready. Jiho couldn’t be a hitman or a serial killer, right? If it wasn’t about killing people, Junhong could handle everything.

As they had eaten everything, they sat on a couch in the living room. Junhong was really nervous. He didn’t know what to expect, thus he stayed silent, looking at his sweaty palms and gulping audibly, until Jiho said, “you’re eighteen now.”

There was another uncomfortable silence. Junhong didn’t look at his hyung. His eyes were locked on a crucifix that was hanging above the main door.

“You’re eighteen now,” repeated Jiho, “and it means some things will change from now.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Junhong, feeling insecure. He shifted forward towards his brother. “Hyung?”

Jiho placed his hands on Junhong’s knees, watching him carefully with two black piercing eyes. He had never looked so serious.

“Listen to me, baby brother. You have to trust me no matter what will happen, no matter what you will see and no matter what you will hear from anyone. I’m on your side and I will always be, right? It is just you and me.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You will,” promised Jiho, “but first you have to say you trust me. I will show you everything if you say you’re with me.”

Junhong didn’t even hesitate. “I’m with you. I trust only you,” he said quickly as he believed everything that Jiho had said to him.

“Okay then,” he nodded. “I should start from the bottom. From the very start.”

And Junhong just listened.

At first, the story he was listening to, sounded like a plot for a mafia movie. He was told that Seoul’s districts are ruled by two powerful groups that are connected with industry, politics and police forces. Dating back to the 1980s, Seoulite gangsters started forming into two separate gangs, rivaling with each other for the territory and dominance. Mostly they have been used as hired muscle and strongmen for businesses but that was just a part of the truth. While Chil Sung Pa, that means The Seven Star, functioned much like Japanese Yakuza, putting their loyalty and justice before anything else, Hwang Song Sung Pa started their criminal activities with international gangs, being involved in sex trafficking and drug smuggling. They were known to be very violent and brutal, not just to their rivals but to anyone on their way. Three founders of the gang were from the Song family and what everyone should know about the Song family was fact that they were tough and selfish, only caring about them themselves.

The founder and headmaster of Chil Sung Pa was Junhong and Jiho’s father, his name Woo Seungwon. He wasn’t interested in sex slavery and he didn’t like unjustified violence. He wanted to create an organization that would be powerful, and called him himself a gentleman until the very end. Chil Sung Pa started developing and created departments located in different cities of South Korea. Seungwon was keen on The Asian motor vehicle industry and back in 1995 he enriched through motor vehicle theft. His people had been stealing luxurious cars, then deconstructed them and transported to Japan. They were good removing a parked cars either by breaking and entry, followed by hotwiring or other tampering methods to start the vehicle.

So it was how it looked like twenty years ago. Hwang Song Pa making money through violence and inhumane sex slavery, and Chil Sung Pa being focused on grand theft auto, choosing not to get their hands dirty. Everything changed when Junhong was six.

“That was when eomma and appa died,” remembered Junhong, looking carefully at his older brother. “They did not die because of car accident, right?”

Jiho gazed on the wall in front of him. It was covered with photos of him, Junhong and their beloved parents. They seemed happy. They were really happy, actually. Even though they were crime family, they shared love and joy, like a normal family should do. They had been eating together, playing games together and living life to the fullest. Besides Seungwon always said that real man should spend time with his family or else he can never be a man.

“Our parents were great people,” Jiho responded eventually, deciding that Junhong was ready to know. “They did not die in car accident. They were shot. I was sixteen by that time so they didn’t let me know everything, just a few facts like where, when, how. They didn’t tell me who did this so I couldn’t get revenge.”

Junhong didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel like crying. More like puking all of sudden. That was just a lot of information he had to swallow, even though those things were sharp like knives.

After a short moment he was ready to ask, “what did happen next?”

“You may not remember, but at first it felt like being in a chaos. Some people took us to their houses, some were discussing what to do. But our father was prepared for that situation like he did know he would die. Then, after a few days, his friend finally came for us. You were so happy to see uncle Himchan that you forgot about crying. Himchan took care of Chil Sung Pa just like our father wanted him to do so, and he made sure to take care of us as well. Because one day, Junhong, Chil Sung Pa should return to our family’s hands.”

Junhong hardly remembered those times when their parents died. He only remembered the warmth of Jiho’s body when he hugged him, and the face of uncle Himchan who appeared one day in front of him and smiled like he was his savior. Uncle Himchan was an intimidating, classy person. He was always well dressed and unbelievable calm, like he never get angry. Last time Junhong had met him was five years ago. After that time his beloved uncle had never appeared in his house and Junhong mustn’t go out.

Junhong wanted to ask why. Why had he been locked in his house for five years from now, why did their parents die, why did he not see his uncle anymore. Just simply why.

But before he ask anything, Jiho said, “I kept everything in secret because I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to understand those things. It is not everything, yet I think it is enough for now.”

“It is more than enough. My head feels like exploding,” replied Junhong and he sighed deeply, rubbing his red eyes. “I will try to understand everything, though. I’m glad you told me the story about our family even if it is just a part of it. Thank you, hyung.”

Jiho nodded his head yes, “I will show you something.”

He took his t-shirt off so Junhong could look at the ink sank into the elder's skin. Stars were kissing his torso and dancing with ribbons and sparks sprawled all over his pale chest. Junhong saw it before, so it wasn't surprising to see tattooed body of Jiho. He still thought that his brother was beautiful and so were black inches of his body.

“What do you see, Junhong?” asked Jiho, staring at his beloved Junhong's confusion. “What do you think is this?”

“A tattoo…”

“Yes, it’s a tattoo,” laughed Jiho. “And what kind of tattoo is it?”

“Umm… It’s a pattern of one, two, three-, seven stars, hyung,” he whispered almost soundlessly, his fingers gently touching tattooed skin and his eyes practically sparkling. It was intimidating. “What's the matter? ”

“Do you remember what I’ve told you about tattoos, Junhong?” he asked, making the teenager even more confused. Junhong was taught about tattoos a long time ago, during one of those boring lessons.

“They are used in order to show an individual’s affiliation to a certain crime syn-duh-dicate,” said Junhong, pulling hand away of his brother's chest. “Members of organized crime often have tattoos of the pa they are in-, hyung, is this… I duh-don’t understand what it has to do with your tattoo.”

He was just told that he is the son of the greatest mafioso in South Korea, something he had never thought of. Blood in his veins was a proof that he was born to be smart and powerful. With this information he should know that…

“Seven stars,” Junhong start talking again, touching every single star like hypnotized, “Chil Sung Pa.”

Jiho took his hand and when their eyes locked, he said, “you are right. It is a tattoo of our family’s Pa. You will have it too.”

“What?”

“You’re going to be marked with tattoo of Chil Sung Pa. Just as your hyung.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who is the worst author on the planet? whoop whoop yes it is me  
> I would never dare to drop my work but I guess slow ass updates are my thing :))   
> this chapter was like a big prologue I MEAN IT IS STILL JUST A BEGINNING??? like how??? why??? just give me 47923729 extra chapters and maybe I will explain everything (nah, I won't)
> 
>  
> 
> lovya bye

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first story I'm writing in english and I'm freaking out because I'm not sure about my grammar and I just---I just don't know if I'm gonna make it through. So please-please-please keep your fingers crossed for me, okay? Okay. 
> 
> Also, I know the first chapter is full of imponderables but I can't make everything clear at the beginning. I want to take it slow, make you question everything and put a lot of small hints in. And I hope this story is at least a little intresting so you will stay with me. 
> 
> (If you see any errors and grammar mistakes - please, let me know. It would be very helpful)


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